The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious
To die before one fears to die may be a boon.
A power of Butterfly must be - The Aptitude to fly Meadows of Majesty concedes And easy Sweeps of Sky -
Tell all the Truth, but tell it slant/Success in Circuit lies.
To be alive──is Power.